Tuesday, 22 April 2014

twenty two

"The Katauta form was used for poems addressed to a lover. A single katauta is considered incomplete or a half-poem, however, a pair of katautas using the syllable count of 5,7,7 is called a sedoka."

shined your eyes today
sideways smile and deep blue pools
saw comfort reflected there.

tucked under my arm
my muscle memory flares
teddy love knows no endings.





Monday, 21 April 2014

twenty one

pantoum.

i crave you like oxygen, like evidence
i seek you like drugs, like good advice
dreaming naked and dripping with significance
the cake's on the table and ready to slice.

i seek you like drugs, like good advice
and it's no accident i think of you nightly
the cake's on the table and ready to slice
kissing scarecrows makes them more sprightly.

and it's no accident i think of you nightly
resisting the urge to howl out your name
kissing scarecrows makes them more sprightly
slip on your gas mask and prepare for the game.

resisting the urge to howl out your name
dreaming naked and dripping with significance
slip on your gas mask and prepare for the game
i crave you like oxygen, like evidence.

Sunday, 20 April 2014

twenty

i'd rather sail the void
than swim it,
rather dance with devils
than meet them in the park,
i'd rather walk away from the fight
than bring it,
rather burn it from both ends
than live in the dark.
i'd rather play the bitch card
than let the fuckers win,
rather take my chances
on one almighty spin,
yes i'm throwing all my chances
on one almighty spin.




nineteen

around the corner
who knows.
uncle graham is getting older.

the wheels turn
my leg's keep peddling.
uncle graham needs an operation.

distance separates,
but memories connect.
uncle graham's been put on morphine.

the sum of my parts
takes on all comers.
i'm visiting uncle graham next sunday.


Thursday, 17 April 2014

eighteen

lucky country blues.

if it wasn't for the fascists
and the spiders 
and the flies,
if it wasn't for the desert
and the floods
and the climate change deniers,
if it wasn't for the borders
and our racists
and the cultural cringe,
if it wasn't for the wholesale
sell off of our natural resources
and the spiders
and the flies
and the fascists
and the destabilisation
of our way of life by
the corporate money whores
that have infected our land
like herpes... 


seventeen.

fan mail for daniel.

if i painted you a picture
i'd use lots of black paint
and red, & brown
because life is shit.
i'd use a fat brush
and lots of strokes
to show i know you are complex,
made up of many parts.

if i sang you a song
i couldn't sing in tune
i wouldn't need to.
i'd just have to yell a lot
with passion, to sound like
that nihilistic shit you listen to.

i have written stories for you
sunk low then lower to impress you, 
tattooed your name on my arse.
- your loyalty drags us all along
you and your crew, we rise and fall together.

you are my brother from another mother,
you are strong like ten men
and stunted like a puppy runt.
you are clever like a dictionary
and feral as a fine porn mag.

zen brother, big brother, drunk brother
you taught me men can 
feel and listen, every day
you help me find
the middle way...
      it's just between fuck up lane
      and fuck you avenue.

it's in our blood brother
to travel on dreams
and trade in the romance
of the road.

sixteen

before sunrise
there is a serenity
and no confusion.
i wake
absorbing the calm,
walk outside where
the nightbirds are losing
their melancholia.

the air 
is harder to breathe
because everything good
must be fought for.
the atmosphere
touches my skin
as the sky lightens
and opens an embrace
to the potential.